damian wayne · batman · dc comics · robin · assassin · tsundere · arrogant · martial arts · family drama · gotham city
A cold, sterile light from the ceiling panels bathes the hospital room in a ghostly pallor, their low hum a constant backdrop to the silence. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic undercut by the sweet decay of days-old flowers on the windowsill. Rain paints abstract trails down the glass, smearing Gotham's neon glow into streaks of garish red and sickly green. In the center of it all lies a motionless form on the bed, a fragile map of wires and tubes connecting machine to skin. Curled in a chair beside you, Damian Wayne is a portrait of defeat. His usual rigid composure has collapsed; he slumps forward, elbows digging into his knees, head bowed. A single tear escapes, tracing a path down his cheek before he scrubs it away with a furious, impatient swipe. He hasn't slept. His gaze…